Shikamaru's Bandstand
by Hakanami
Summary: Shikamaru Nara is Konoha's No.1 Piano player and genius of Konoha University. Despite wanting very little to do with the piano, the young Nara struggle to successfully live off his scholarship to college. With Sophomore year beginning,it's time for exams.
1. Chapter 1

If you were to ask me, what my favorite kind of music was. I'd probably tell you the flute.

Its nature, very pure and free spirited. It's intention of either wooing or calming you always made sincere. The very second the notes erupt from the thin piece of iron with holes on perfectly measured intervals, I'm lost in a cloud like haze. The aria of music that follows always calming me more then words could describe.

"If Only"

I always told myself. If only I was lucky enough to become a famed flute musician, One who was able to soothe even the most prudent and stubborn of fools. Even the most troublesome ones around.

If only, I had more practice at it. More time to place the instrument to the opening between my lips, and practice making the same music that could soothe me so.

If only, I had more luck. Luck to be a flute player, As opposed to winding up playing the boorish and complex instrument like the piano. Despite my love for the flute, I had more talent playing the piano then it. Which just sucks.

And finally, when the mangled operatic notes found themselves at the front of my ears, and boring their way into the back of my skull, to haunt me later, I wished. If only the person I could turn to too even hear the flute, didn't suck as bad as this.

"Ino...stop playing."

* * *

My name is Nara Shikamaru

Son of Nara Shikaku, one of the most famous men to ever pick up a flute. Who was son to Nara Shikata, another famous man to create masterpieces with a flute, and a trumpet. As did his father, and his father after that.

I on the other hand, got stuck with the Piano. A big clunky, heavy, piece of wood and other components that would play nice notes if you smash your fingers into the ivory keys underneath them. Only to repeat that process over and over again. It's painful, it was always precise, demanded attention, accuracy, And above all else...

It's really boring.

Sometimes I would sit down and ask myself, why wasn't I lucky? Why didn't I get a chance to play something beautiful and free like the flute. Instead of getting stuck playing a good 250 pound instrument that gave out hernia's every time you wanted to move it. Free of charge, might I add.

It seems unfair.

Inside our little music room, of which we'd rented for the two of us to practice, Ino pried the flute from her lips. Just keeping it away long enough to form a stern frown at me. Almost as if I was the one playing terribly and mangled every other note on the sheet of paper in front of me.

She placed it back to her lips to try and play again, starting out with another quick measure. One that fluttered around like a hungry cat chasing a mouse, or butterfly darting around a backyard.

"Too fast." The whole damn thing was off! She wasn't able to move her fingers fast even after the Prestissimo, so in oppose to actually doing a good job, she skipped over some notes selectively, and then replaced them with more normal sounding ones to try and mask her unaware that the only thing she accomplished by doing this, is making the notes stand out even more. The whole thing sounded like a jumpy, quick paced, piece of shit.

"Stop playing, and try it again!"

This time, she threw her flute away from her mouth.

"Goddamn it Shikamaru!" she barked at me. "Every time I start it's like you purposefully try to find something wrong with my playing."

That's kind of the point.

"I'm starting to wonder if you even want to pass this examination. I know you hate working with other people, but I'm the only person who was willing to work with the "genius" of this university."

That's not exactly true either. You were just the first person to ask, and I didn't feel like asking the other students.

"Ah... This is too frustrating!" she grumbled to herself glancing at my reaction out of the corner of her eyes. "I've got to meet with my fraternity today, so it's better if I just leave this alone. We've got time till the examination anyways."

Ino rose from her seat without taking a full glance backward at me. She monitored my reaction the entire time since she'd started to complain about my complaining. Though I'd done little more then yawn, and glare at her. I suppose she wanted to think that maybe I'd get annoyed with her, or something.

I don't really know, she almost never makes sense anyways. Though I suppose it might have been my fault in some way shape or form. Even though she was obviously the one who was playing terribly, it's my fault for reminding her and being honest about it.

Or something likes that. I quickly realized that the situation was going to get out of hand, so I made a comment to this blonde haired woman as she collected her coat, and placed it on her shoulders.

"Will I see you tonight?"

Ino shrugged as she slid the gloves over her long white fingers.

"I don't know Shikamaru…maybe" She said as she hurried out the door. "Maybe."

And without more then the hum of the AC and the sizzle of a hot cup of tea, prepared for such a cold morning. I found myself alone in the wooden practice room, with nothing more then a piano to play.

With the room to myself, things seemed to be more less pressuring, but even more pressing. I realized that though I no longer had to push Ino into playing better, it doesn't change the fact that she wasn't trying at all now. So my exam seemed more and more close.

"Only two weeks left, I need to get something going fast."

It made sense after all. Just simply telling myself that I needed to work would suffice enough for now. So, I made my way at the seat of the piano its top frame down, so I could rest a cup of tea on top of it. With Ino's perfume still filling the air after she left, I stared at the bleached white keys of a fine ivory craft. But, I didn't work. Alas, in oppose to actually working on something productive I found myself passing the time with just a simple song like chopsticks.

I couldn't focus.

Even after racking my brain over the examination. I couldn't get serious. The exam wasn't a joke though, as it meant the same thing for my freshman year here, I'm not surprised things are to be more serious now. The exam meant the same thing to everyone though, with the coming of the fall season, it mow meant that those of us who were here on scholarship alone would have to quickly find a partner, prepare a piece of music for the two of us, and then collectively play that piece well enough to cover our asses for another semester.

Ino just happened to be the partner who I chose. She was also my girlfriend. But such a thing would hold very little weight in most other relationships. I liked to think that it wasn't relative to what was going on anyways…

She had it a lot easier then me though, as her parents were able to cover her tuition, which also compensated for the fact that she sucked when it came to playing the mandatory one instrument required to enroll here.

Ino was an actor, or a singer. She was magnificent in all things that combined the use of her voice and drama. So much so that one could say that the opera was her playground. The flute on the other hand, was not.

To the normal ear, she wasn't all that terrible. But average at best. Such a thing didn't matter if in all actuality, she sucked when placed on a higher level and compared to others who are experts with it.

Ino was no more special than any of the other nameless students who come here to graduate with a degree in music, and art. With her talents, she'd probably do better to forget about the flute, and focus on her acting. Maybe in a few years or so she could end up playing the thing for one of her children's birthday parties.

I on the other hand, didn't have the luxury.

I was one of the rare occasional students that were able to come day in and day out to this academy for free, because of a full ride scholarship. With the piano as my major, I was unwillingly put on a higher level because I didn't have to pay.

But more contributed to this double-standard. The Nara's before me also paved the way for this pain in my ass. With my father being the famous musician that he was and my family name being known for their expertise in the Woodwind section.

I, the only piano major, was even more at odds with this whole damn thing. Either I could help my families name by being the oddball, or show its musical prowess by being a genius. Either way, the fun of the music was slowly evaporating every time I had to sign up for a competition, and enlist in an examination. All of which required the most superfluous blend of instruments, or solo's.

Bastards.

Before I knew it, my thoughts had caused playing chopsticks over and over again to lose its initial luster. The room got even colder and murky as the Tea Kettle succumbed to the nipping temperature. The tea's sharp and rich taste growing blander by the second. The cup falling from my hand, to rest upon the top of the wooden piano.

It all grew quieter, and docile. My still eyes glancing at the cold wooden doorway that my partner had just left, without more then a grumble, I laid head against the top of my instrument. Sliding my bare hands across the ivory keys, eventually I placed them down at my sides, and closed my eyes shut. I truly didn't feel like playing for right now, not like it mattered. I'd be better off just forgetting about the damn thing and taking a nap. So in silence, I sat.

How did things get to be like this?

A good question, in all honesty. A reasonable query upon which the answer could be summed up to simple frustration, and pressure. Or something else that I wished not to remind myself of at this moment. I chose to reminisce instead.

Back when I was a lad, I used to love sneaking into the back stage of my father concerts. I'd find a good chair which was proportional to his flute and allow myself to gently become entranced by the sound of his music. Though it wasn't hard to imagine that I often fell asleep.

But now...Now things seemed to get more mundane and blander as the days went by. Everyone had an audition, application, test or opinion. Instead of shutting up and letting me enjoy the music, they did their best to turn it into something more troublesome then arguing with my mother.

As long as that's what I had to look forward too, it's not hard to believe why I nap would trump practice every time. Maybe if I just let Ino suck when we take the test, some of this weight would be lifted off my back. It isn't like I wanted it to be there. I just felt like playing, not putting on a show. Once again, I sat still, listening to the hum of the air conditioning unit as it blew hot air into the frigid practice room. Listened to the ticking and tocking of the clock on the side of the wall, as it counted down the minutes and seconds until it'd be a good time to leave. And then:

"A Violin?"

It was, with a flute to accompany it. Accentato! Right from the start musicians were able to captivate the emphasis, and power necessary to play Beethoven's Seventh Symphony.  
Even the sound of the notes was different; their usage of the increasing tempo was pulled off masterfully. Not a single beat or measure was missed, and was played to its full extent. It was nearly perfect. The music caused me to move about, rising from the piano and up towards the doorway. I was caught, captivated by the vivacity of each Allegro to Crescendo. My hands opened the door without my knowledge, caught in the sea of music I headed towards it on pure instinct alone.

"Who's playing this song?"

Each reverberation of the song shook me, painting a vivid picture in my mind. My mind pictured soldiers of days of old. Dressed from head to two in revolutionary equipment, as the flute animated their assault on either side. The ring of the Timpani (of which I presumed was a recording) was dead on, drawing canons to fire upon the battlefield. The violin giving scenery and action to the whole cadence. Lush green grass and fresh brown dirt being spilt upon the ground, as soldiers rushed at one another with battalions in the hundreds.

It was amazing that the Violinist could control so much of the song. Though the flute player was remarkable, the Violinist was the one who made this piece sound as if Beethoven himself had risen from the grave and conducted their session.

I rushed to the room at the end of the hallway, listening to the piece at its midway point, before barging into a room titled "P15." Stopping the music as I rushed the door, I erupted inside without wasting any time. Still caught in the powerful music which rung throughout my head, without saying a word, I glanced upon the two inside the room.

Although… I quickly realized, that was not one of my better ideas.

Upon my intrusion, I was met with an immediate cease of all music apart from the Timpani that resounded from a small radio. I also found myself with an angry glare from a perturbed looking blonde, and a bright looking girl with glasses and pink hair who glanced my way as well. They both stood a good inch or two shorter then myself, holding onto their instruments in very curvy, women like bodies. This was to be expected.

What was not expected was the reaction I got. Immediately upon entering the room, it became noticeable that the blonde was not taking this intrusion very lightly.

"What the hell do you think your doing?" she barked. "The room said do not disturb for a reason, so do you have trouble reading, or are you just an idiot?"

I was at a loss for words. I got so caught up in the music that I completely forgot that I had tossed the sign off the doorknob and barged in anyways. Still, trying to swallow my pride, I responded to her. "I apologize. But I was surprised that anyone at this school could play as good as you two."

"Obviously, you were wrong about that. So now that you know, do you mind getting the hell out?"

I tried my best to keep my smile despite how rude the blonde had seemed. Before I had a chance to respond any further, the woman behind the piano spoke. "Now, now Temari. You know you need work on playing in front of people anyways, and who better then Shikamaru Nara." She said. Of who I now recognized as Sakura Haruno, another one of this school's more fine scholarship students.

But this Temari… I'd never heard of her before.

"This lazy looking man is Shikamaru?" she asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

Yeah it looks that way to me.

"He doesn't look like much at all. I'm surprised they say such uproarious things about him, nothing special looking about him at all."

You don't even know me, yet you're insulting me? You're a friendly kind of woman aren't you?

"Oh well" she snickered. "I suppose if you want to hear Sakura and I play some more, then I've got no choice but to abide by the request." Temari turned from me to look at Sakura. "Go ahead and start the tape over, we'll give him what he wants." Sakura rose from where she'd been sitting to reset the CD player, which presumably had been designed to break down various parts of the song with different instruments. In this case, it was the Timpani.

"You don't have to play the whole thing over, you know. I only wanted to hear the third measure, if that's all right with you." Sakura and Temari both took an uneasy glance at one another, before looking back to me. "The third measure?" asked Sakura with a smile. "Are you sure you just don't want to hear the whole thing all over again?" I shook my head. "There's no point in that. I was impressed the most about how you all made such a quick transition from one part to the other. So I'd like to hear it again."

Temari crossed her arms, with Violin in hand. "Well, we'd like to start over so you can…"

Sakura stopped her before she could continue. "All right. We'll start from there, Temari get ready for it."

"But Sakura!" she pleaded almost immediately.

"You need to work on this too, so it couldn't hurt. Just follow my lead." She said confidently. Turning the pages of her music to accommodate my request, switching the CD player to start upon her command, she rose the flute to her lips, and began. Much like before, it was flawless. She started to increase her tempo at the same rate at the CD player did. Showing her prowess towards the instruments, her fame around the school was apparent to me now.

However, Temari didn't do anything. She simply stared at Sakura, ready to begin playing, but just stood still with an uneasy look on her face. I also noticed that she didn't have any music beside her.

"Why aren't you playing?"

I asked. It made no sense that she was playing so well before, so if she was going to go as far as to act as if he abilities were so superior to the common persons, then why is it that she refrained from playing now. "Shut the hell up!" she barked while staring at Sakura. "I'll play in a second."

But the seconds passed onward, and the song moved further into its measure, and Temari still didn't do anything. She looked apprehensive about starting at all. It wasn't long before Sakura turned around and stopped the machine, and stopped playing as well. A displeased look now turned toward her partner. "Come on Temari, just remember your part and play like you know how." She said, giving her friend a nod. Sakura smiled towards me in a polite manner, "Sorry, we're going to restart one more time."

I nodded, expecting to hear the same harmonious music as before. Sakura once again started playing, alongside the CD player, just as accurate as before. Temari on the other hand, gave us both apprehensive looks. She then frowned, closed her eyes, and started playing. Vigorously attempting the third measure of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony.

What resulted from her effort was something I had wished I had never had the chance to hear.

The whole thing sucked more then anything else I'd had the chance to hear in my life. The notes were rushed, and out of place. The tempo was ridiculously off, the beats were out of place, and in areas that required the most delicate of decrescendo's she decided to respond with an allegretto, with unstable playing left in light.

I'd rather have my head drilled through with a nail then listen to that whiny, rushed piece of crap which emanated from her violin. Without another word, I raised my hand, and pointed my finger directly at Temari. Drawing her attention off the music and back onto me. As proud and annoyed as I could, and in the least degrading way possible, I spoke my mind to this pushy looking blonde.

"Temari, you really suck."


	2. Chapter 2

There's been a lot of things in my life that have effectively rose my hopes, and inspiration. And then choose to effectively dash them against the rocks of truth, and reality before them. Though it was never necessarily about the facts, but moreso about the realization of something that had great impact, is not as special as it could have been.

Realizing that Santa Close was actually a common old man with a big old red suit and beard is a good example. Not because you realize that every present you've gotten was not crafted in some kind of off factory with elves and supernatural deer. But moreso because all the magic and music that went along with Santa fizzled and died along with the coming truth. Making Christmas nothing ore then just petty gift giving so you can get your own in the end.

Realizing that the Toothfairy was fake had nearly the same effect. Not because the money you were given wasn't your just your tooth transformed by some kind of magical being As I doubt it really mattered where money came from back when we were all children. But it was because what you'd expected to be magical and special was false. It rose your hopes on it being someone a lot more magical then your Mom with her pursestrings in her hand.

It's the hope, and nothing more. It doesn't matter if you still get the results, but if the journey isn't worth them then what's the point of getting excited? It just becomes another humdrum additive to daily life.

So, as I stood in that small practice room with an open window splashing light upon my right side. Both the blond, and the cherry haired girls standing before me. It felt like a fairytale gone terribly wrong all over again. Once again dashed upon the crushing rocks of reality, and left to brave their way back to the long shores of reason, logic, and acceptance.

Not because Temari's skill were deceitful, but because I sure as hell didn't see that one coming.

"Damn it!" Grumbled Temari, kicking the empty sheet sand to the wooden floor. "Didn't I tell you Sakura, we should have just started the whole song over."

And without a second to seek a reply from her cherry haired accomplice, I watched Temari effectively storm out of the room, and slam the door as loud as she could. Shouting a few expletives as she stormed down the hallway. Being as loud as possible of course.

Sakura and I met eyes as the crushing of Temari's heels reverberated around the tile hallways, and with a sigh, she motioned for me to take a seat beside the piano near her. Even as I sat down, she wore a look on her face as if this had been another activity of everyday life.

She leaned back in her chair, a relaxed manner that showed how little she cared for this kind of thing. She laid her flute upon the top of the piano, and calmly folded her fingers into her lap.

"Sorry." She began. "Temari's a bit of a hot head, so I'm not surprised she blew up like that in front of you, a total stranger to her."

'A bit' was probably the most ridiculous understatement I'd heard all day, even amongst the common fills of bullshit which are practically spoonfed from me on a daily basis. Nevertheless, I decided I'd refrain and say something more objective.

"What the hell happened to her? 'A bit of a hot head' is one hell of an understatement."

Though it seemed this idea failed, that troublesome woman must have irked me more then I thought.

Sakura grinned a bit to herself, crossing her arms underneath her bust and looking at me in a very calm manner. A light pair of bifocals lay upon the tips of her nose. Still as calm, and eloquent as ever.

"She's peculiar to say the least." Sakura said in a way which concealed her smile. "Temari can play just about any song she's heard more then once. Most times without even touching the music sheet, and it's usually pretty perfect."

"But" I started before she could. "If she could do that , then why did she make that seem so difficult. She only hit about 30 percent of the notes accurately, invested another 50 percent on mangling the rest of the passage, and still had enough time to spend the last 20 percent on screaming expletives at her viola."

Sakura shrugged hopelessly, "I honestly couldn't tell you, even if I wanted too Shikamaru. All I can say, is that Temari's very peculiar."

I leaned back in my chair with a long sigh, as I tried to take thoughts of that foul mouthed blonde out of my mind. Her playing beforehand, has been about as amazing. As her attitude was foul, when I met her.

But alas, I decided it'd be better to focus on the here and now, namely someone like Ms.Haruno, a gifted girl who I'd been luckily given a chance to talk too.

Sakura was a well known girl, dubbed the elusive and elegant flower of the Konoha University. As well as other random things people had said about her, not very far from her manner, and her skill. To me, Sakura just seemed like a normal person.

A day to day individual her had her feet firmly planted in her reason, common logic. She seemed as if she was down to earth, and easy to get along with. Which was more then I could say about Ino, or that other blonde. Not quick tempered, not troublesome, not bossy, or obnoxious.

Just normal.

"So, were you working on your entry for the fall examination?" But she shook her head in response. "No, I'm going to be doing my own piece with someone else. Temari's been a friend of mine for alittle while, and she was doing the same song as me and my partner."

Damn, this meant she wasn't available to ask for help. More then likely meaning I'd still be stuck with Ino, or finding someone who was better then she is.

"Well, who else did you find to help you? I've been looking for someone to help me ace it and move on to the next exam, but I'm more then sure anyone you've found to help you had to be superb."

Sakura smiled to herself, "Eh there are more important things then passing examinations." She said confidently as she leaned back into her chair. "If you don't have fun and enjoy the music then there's no point in even doing it at all."

And this sentence more, then any other in our following conversation was the most impactful to me. It made me feel like a fool, for some reason or another.

For the remainder of my day inside the confides of the room, that statement lingered on my thoughts. Reminding me of my gradeschool days, and the first time I picked up a recorder and played it. Though I didn't find a whole lot of interest in it persay, I remembered my father telling me that that was where he started playing his first notes.

And for what seemed like hours at a time, though it was probably like an half an hour. I played that recorder, with a zeal and fervor that I'd never done before. I wanted to model my notes like my father's, I wanted to play the same song's he did, and revel in the fact that I could play music too.

But those days had long since passed.

"I don't get it at all, Chouji." I said to my friend on my cell-phone, walking to my apartment after my conversation with Sakura, and her partner.

"What's not to get Shikamaru? Sakura's just a different person then you are so there's no point in being all surpised about it." He said over the sounds of a bar behind him. As Chouji loved to go to a bar after Timpani practice. He too was here on scholarship, but I suppose I'd known Chouji for several years now.

Eventually, Sakura's partner had came into the room that we'd been talking in. But when I discovered that he was Naruto Uzumaki, the worse trumpet player in the whole school I was more surprised then I was jealous that he got a chance to work with an obvious pro-then I did.

It turned out Sakura was dating this blonde haired reject from one of the orphanages of Konoha. He was terrible, and had more trouble finding a note then Ino did. Despite the fact that when I got a glimpse of how they worked together, Sakura's perfect playing didn't carry him half as much as it seemed it would.

In fact, the whole thing was pretty vexing. Even when they hit good and low notes which either sounds wrong or right, I couldn't help but notice the smiles they wore the entire time. If I had to rate that little presentation, I'd give it a decent score because of how much fun it looked like it was to play, and not because it did still suck.

I scratched my goatee as I made my way up the stairs. "I know all that, but it doesn't make sense. Have I really gotten that far along to the point where I'm not even having fun anymore?"

"Yeah, you have." Chouji said without the slightest hesitation.

I was surprised he was able to come up with suck an answer so quickly. "Gah, what do you mean 'yeah.' I always figured I played the right way, and looked for the right thing."

"Yeah, you do play that way. That doesn't mean it's correct.

"Fine. Then how else should we play, o' great musical guru?"

Once again, there wasn't as much as a pause on the other side. Even as I stood outside my apartment door on the top floor of the stairs, I kept my eyes affixed on the city below me.

"I'd guess, you should play however it is that you feel like playing. I know you like to play just by the books so you can get it over with, but that doesn't mean even the books themselves are all that right either."

He paused for a bit to collect his thoughts.

"Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, all of them. They're all dead. So with all due respect, I don't anyone alive knows just how they wanted their songs to truly be played. And anything we have now is just hearsay that could have been distorted over the years to come. That's why I say you shouldn't overthink it like you always do, and just play how you feel like playing."

He paused for the last time. "Just like how Asuma taught us."

I grumbled, and hung up the phone. Still in thought over Chouji's words, I quickly turned towards the blue doorway that stood before me. Not even paying attention, I tried to get inside before unlocking it. But to my surprise the door was already opened to begin with.

Was it a thief? No, not at all. Was it a shock? Not at all either. All this meant, was that another person would be here to visit me once again today. A troublesome person who was my girlfriend of a handful of months.

A troublesome person named, Ino Yamanaka.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm sure even the greatest men were somewhat apprehensive when they were planning to overcome some of the more monumental feats that arrived upon their doorsteps.

I'm sure David was slightly worried before he faced off against Goliath with nothing more then a rock and a stone. Thomas More before he stood on the trial that could save him or sentence him to death, Brutus as he stood with his mates before they were to kill Caesar, and even Harry S Truman before he made the call to drop the bomb.

It's more then reasonable to feel some kind of fear, or hesitation, even for those men who are revered as heroes of they're own accord. It doesn't have to be much; it didn't even have to matter. What matters even in the slightest bit is that when a large instrument of fear and fate and came and knocked on their doors. They let just alittle bit seep between the cracks.

I on the other hand, could say I was in a similar position.

As I turned the door and stepped inside my one room apartment, I noticed several dead give away signs about the lion that slept in my den. The noxious smell of vodka all around the room. Ino's favorite drink when I ran out of win. She loved smell when it mixed with the expensive perfume I buy her when we go out. Even if it was repulsive.

Her, or in this case **my** keys were still atop the counter, perched above the European imported heels I had bought her for her birthday. Both shoes sloppily slapped up against the entrance way before the wooden flooring.

I could even hear the sound of her hiccupping and slurred laughter reverberating against the white painted walls of my home.

As I walked closer, the mess grew more and more vivid and erratic. A scattered skirt, a discarded blouse, a soaked sock draped across the magazine rack, and a dirty bra hanging from my lamp. All things led towards the couch in the center of the room, a makeshift trail of clothing that led to the culprit who planned to gracefully steal my sanity, and piece.

Low and behold, there she sat, damn near unconscious and wearing one of my night shirts. The prideful, baroness of Konoha U. Ms.Yamanaka Ino, herself.

"Shikamaru!" she mumbled excitedly. "I'm glad you made it home, baby. I've something I wanted to talk to you about." Her words were harder then usual to decipher. I was alittle relieved to see that her usual chatterbox nature had been slowed down a bit, so words weren't coming out of her mouth one after another like a human machine gun. But I suppose the price to pay was the clarity of each one, because this was drunken slurring and broken English.

Drunk Ino talk, per say.

"There's uh… This thing. This thing I wanted to ask you."

What the hell are you doing on my couch? I think that's a much better question.

"Can...Can you believe the crap they put me through at that good for nothing school!" she said with some more lovely slurring. Her skin a bright red, to show how flustered she was from all the drinking. It somewhat explained why she had on nothing more then a long Tee shirt, and a pair of panties.

If at least that much, I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt without letting my eyes wander.

"They told me, I couldn't have the spot. Took it, robbed it, flushed the whole thing down the Godamn toilet. It's gone, and as long as they let that bitch Tenten have it, then I don't even care. None at all, no worry, completely fine."

You don't look find, drunkard.

"What was that? Did you say something mean, you big….mean."

"No, but you must be insane if you think I'm going to let you sleep half naked on my couch." Being drunk didn't even matter.

"Why not!?" she bumbled with another shot of vodka in her hand. "I've slept naked with you before, this is just a step before that one."

I couldn't help but cover my face with my palm. Ino was by no means a cute drunk, in fact she was just a bit slower and more rowdy then she was when she was sober. However, she only goes this far gone when something was seriously bothering her.

I shrugged, with a slight blush on my face from the prior comment and how loud she'd said it. I was sure the damn neighbor would have came knocking on my door by now. Still, I walked to the kitchen in the far edge of the room opening up the black refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water out the side of the door.

"Oi, Shikamaru!" she yelled while I was in the kitchen. "Let me stay over here tonight, I don't want to go home." She asked. "Huh? Why are you blushing, baby?"

Why the hell are you talking so loud? Do you want me to have to explain to the landlord again?

"He actually laughed about it last time, and that doesn't matter for right now."

You're drunk; you barely even know where you are.

"On your couch, ready for you to come over here."

Ugh… I'd had enough of this.

"No." I grumbled as I tossed the ice cold bottle at her lap. "Unlike you, I've got a boatload of work to do."

"Please" she pleaded. "I promise I won't be a bother."

You're half naked, and drunk on my couch. I think you're more towards the nuisance category.

"It was hot, and I spilled something on my clothes. Might have been something I drank."

"No!" I said with the best frown I could give her. "No means no!"

* * *

I'm not sure myself what caused it to be, but a few hours later I found myself glancing at relatively the same sight as before. Clothes still leaving marks on the floor, even after they'd been slid around just a bit. Cleaning solvent and alcohol filling the air all around us both. And a slightly more covered, by a blanket from the closet, as well as completely out cold, was Ino.

Someway or another she'd gotten what she wanted in the end it seemed. I wasn't trying to be nice and let her stay here or anything like that; I just got sidetracked by doing other more important things is all.

Finished with the brunt of my work, I made my way towards my own miniature musical corner. Various items I had bought, or had bought for me all around the little backdrop by the sliding glass window which leads to the balcony.

Pictures of my father's concerts, and friends from old hanging in effluencey. All gravitating around the Grand Piano which had been purchased for me the birthday after I first showed I could play it better then the flute.

Around my seventh birthday, after I had finally gotten a hang of playing the recorder. My father wanted to try and educate me on how to follow in his famous footsteps. However, that didn't yield any positive results.

We tried everything, so much so that I grew tired of being drilled in how to play the flute over and over again. So one day, while my old, troublesome teacher wasn't looking I snuck out of the classroom and tried to take a nap on the grand piano which lied in the room two doors down from hers.

It was left open when I found it, so I tried to close it up. Accidentally striking the keys while doing so. For some reason or another, when I started I couldn't stop. Kind of like that answer on a test, when you have no clue which one is right, when I played one note; I played another, and another, and another. It all seemed to fit into place, like it just felt like the right thing.

Sooner or later, that old wench caught wind of my trick and found my hands working their way across those blackened ivory keys.

Leading me all the way down, to where I still have my fingers working my way across those very same keys twelve years later. Only this time it's my future on the line.

Tonight, as I made my way up the steps to the Grand Piano which had never quite left me down. I took the same spot I always did, sitting snack dab in the middle and turning the large music book perched in the middle of the stand.

Grabbing a pack of menthols out of the side of my jacket, I made sure to grab the remote that opened up the window behind me. After all, I didn't want my house smelling anymore like cigarette smoke.

I shuffled through the pages, expecting to hear alittle from my neighbors before I started playing myself. The neighbor to my left was surprisingly enough the first heiress to the Hyuuga family household. The Hyuuga's were a long since established dynasty of power and conquest that dates back to the rural days of Konoha.

Each was known for the wisdom, their virtue, and their inability to be trampled by any of Japan's problems over the years. When World War I happened, the Hyuuga's were there. When the atom bomb dropped, the Hyuuga's were there, and I can't help but think that when it all comes to in end in some troublesome and retarded way, the Hyuuga's will be right there scorning whomever they please.

Hinata Hyuuga was her name I think, but I'm not sure what instrument she plays. I know she has a brother named Neji who is probably the most talented person I'd ever met. The guy is by no means a social butterfly, but he starts on the Football team, excels in the Tennis Court, A well known figure in the Kendo world, and still finds the time to practice in the Cello.

Neji always seemed to be the topic of a conversation about the Hyuuga's, which made sense considering how well he can play. Most of the times when I hear Hinata play; it strikes me as troubled, and complicated. However, I'm never sure what's hers from what's not hers.

Neji doesn't live there, but he visits from time to time, and she often brings company over just about every night. Sometimes it's some dog boy named Kiba, who plays an obnoxiously loud trumpet, or an older student named Shino, who majored in conducting.

Either way, that team they had going over there was definitely more extravagant then what we had going on here. Even with Ino's help.

I finally reached the piece I was looking for,

"_Spring" Violin Sonata No. 5. Op 24 – _Beethoven.

The piece had been transformed into an easy more balanced version that could be played using one to two pianos. Even if it was originally designed to be played between a violin, and a piano.

With a drag of my cigarette and a shot of rum, I cracked my knuckles and began to play the piece. Streaming hand over the piano keys in the manner of which the sheet had instructed.

A slow, easy listening melody, that represented the coming embrace and breeziness that came with spring. Illustrating ever glowing flowers, or richly nourished orchards which finally cast away their covering petals, and spread out to meet the sun.

It as a peaceful song, one in which you can imagine small creatures playing in the meadow, listening to the brook as it gently moves southward, no more then a couple of feet away from the meadow.

It didn't last for very long.

Around three or four minutes into play, I heard a particular howl from the window behind me. A loud cackle that threw me off rhythm, so much so I stopped playing just to turn my head to meet it.

"Oi!" it shouted. "Start it over!"

An impulsive, imprudent tone that sounded about as innately rude as it did familiar. I scoffed to myself as I hard such a remark, but nonetheless seeing as my rhythm had been so badly mirred before, I had no choice but to comply with this unseen member of my audience.

I began the song once again, slowly starting to play the melody which could cause a veil of spring to arise, however something else nearly stopped me this time. But not a voice or a command from a troublesome person.

But a viola instead.

Without my knowledge, this player tried to emulate my playing, and though they seemed to have a good concept on how the song should be played there was something significantly different about it.

The musician played in fortissimo, a cantabile style with strong and powerful notes, and the sharpest edges I had ever seen.

The graceful spring orchard had been altered. Slowly growing a more stern and solemn meadow. All of the Viola's notes were hit with a stern precision, and clarity. A bold faced strength that seldom drifted out of perfection, but at the same time came off more like "Fall" then it did "Spring".

The Viola took the kindness out of the orchard, and characterized it as if a stronger animal had swooped in and bossed the rest of the orchard to follow its lead. Another smarter animal reducing the beauty of the song, but still leaving a forceful impact on the entire meadow, an impulse that wouldn't soon be forgotten.

The viola was too bossy, but perfect. Its style of music was garish, but this person played in a way that compensated for this fact. Making it sound as lively and joyful, as it was strong.

The impression was something I knew, whomever this person was they were obvious control freaks, which had to have prevalence over anything they played in. The same kind of tone I heard earlier today. A leader, who transformed attitude into superfluous notes and techniques.

A Cantabile Bombshell to say the least.

So, I suppose I'll play along. If they want to play and be the center of attention, then I suppose that's fine with me. The center stage was never a stage I particularly wanted to jump on top of and be on regardless.

It'd always been like that, heads always turning my way and expecting me to want to lead the song in anyway I wanted too. To make me follow through with note after note of perfection, when in all actuality, that's not how I wanted to lead at all. This viola was smart enough to realize that thing that mattered the most was playing the song right and playing it well.

Why? Even of that I wasn't quite sure.

We played note after note, measure after measure. The notes descending from both Allegro to Fortissimo in fashions that might have been alittle unorthodox, but done in good taste as well. Everything was closer to perfect then anything I'd ever done with a partner before, the viola took its powerful lead, and I followed suit without too much griping or even being left behind.

After awhile, we finished the First and second movements, concluding the piece on that note because the viola didn't begin the opening part for the next movement.

In what felt like an instant, the spring fields all around me melted while my fingers rested still on the ivory. The beautiful music caused my whole body to tremble, even if subtly. In awe if nothing more, the Violin Sonata between two instruments became nothing more then the sound of a half asleep drunk woman humming the melody in her sleep.

(Ino liked the song.)

With a cigarette half burnt in my lips, and a shot glass empty, it was almost as if I'd been woken from a really commanding dream. An angry slumber that held me much longer then I would have wanted, even if I felt great the second it was over with.

I didn't ask questions, I didn't need answers. Without thinking at all I turned my back and headed to the window behind me.

It was as if I suddenly, just got it.

They say that a musical experience of a lifetime is a fleeting one. That after there's one good one, the rest will fade in memory, fade in euphoria. But I can honestly say, I was never one to care too much about that. The song itself had now taken a backseat to the reason why I was playing.

But when I rose, from my seat, it was to find that viola player. Not because they could be an asset to me in the upcoming exam weeks, not because I can use a viola in the next exam.

It was so I could play like that, at least one more time.

I opened the glass door, instinctively looking towards Hinata's apartment, expecting to her brother, or one of her friends holding the instrument firmly in their hands. But to my dismay, I spotted nothing of the sort, the only sight greeting me there was an open window. (As they were probably listening to us play.)

So I turned to my right, but shrugged out of shock. Almost despair.

The sight was peculiar, long blonde hair laid pinned up and soaked with vivid moonlight caught in-between the wire like strands of hair. A vivid smile on her chin, as she faced my way. Grasping the eloquent violin in a ready position, I could almost sense the familiar hubris that emanated from this woman's lips.

There stood the voluptuous Temari, eyes barely open as hints of the music still flowing out from her being. It was a sight for sore, grumpy, half awake eyes. Greeted in the night by my Cantabile Bombshell.


End file.
